


What Love Feels Like

by pizzabender1 (jorlau)



Series: The Psychic and his Captain [2]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 10:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jorlau/pseuds/pizzabender1
Summary: Vraskareallylikes Jace. Their relationship isn't always easy, but with time and work, it continues to get better.





	What Love Feels Like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hanktalkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/gifts), [whatswiththemustache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatswiththemustache/gifts).



> Wanted to get this out there before any parts of it get Jossed, especially since I don't intend to read the novel. Sequel to my previous fic [A Good Partner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212094), following up on Vraska's perspective on the whole thing and even more of the poor dears struggling with intimacy.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.

Vraska _really_ likes Jace.

It amuses her, sometimes, to think about what she would have said, the first time she met him, if someone had told her where they would end up. Back then, she had thought of him as a prissy, amoral snob, someone too invested in appearing intellectually superior to get his hands dirty, an outsider who had tricked his way into a position of power over her world and, worst of all, didn’t understand how to _use_ that power effectively. She’d been predisposed to hate him before she even met him, and after their initial conflict she’d loathed everything about him, from his stupid blue cloak to his fussy mannerisms to his thin, pallid (but, even then she had to admit, handsome) face. Most of all, she’d detested him for outwitting her.

These days, even the things that haven’t changed about his behavior feel different to her. She understands, now, where they came from, understands how having his sense of self ripped away and years of manipulation by a series of experts left him clinging to anything that felt like being in control. She’s grateful that her attempt to blackmail him into submission failed, that she didn’t join the ranks of those who exploited his vulnerability for their own ends. She would never have seen the beauty in him, that way, and he’s so beautiful to her now that it makes her heart hurt to think of the possibility. 

The Jace she knows now is a deeply caring man who goes out of his way to do things that he thinks will make her happy. He listens to her troubles and triumphs with interest and sympathy. He’s still serious, but now she sees that balanced by his dry humor and happy smile. (She loves that smile, especially when she knows she’s the reason for it.) He’s stronger, healthier, and less fretful now, though he still fidgets; she finds the habit endearing, a reminder of the driving curiosity that she first recognized in him during their pirating days. 

(She’s still not a fan of the cloaks. They’re garish and leave far too much to the imagination, especially with the physique he’s got now. He seems to find them comforting, though, so she doesn’t mention it.)

Vraska loves how transparently Jace adores her. He brings her little gifts, always appropriate, always things he knows she’ll actually value, and beams with delight when she thanks him. When they talk, he pays rapt attention to her, drinking in her words and committing them to memory. On the rare occasions when she touches him – he never initiates contact, though she suspects he often wants to – he radiates joy and responds enthusiastically, but always gently. When he sees her after they’ve been apart, his face lights up with happiness. When she compliments him, however small and deserved the praise, he glows with embarrassment and pleasure. His love makes her feel warm, and safe, in a way she has rarely felt in her life.

She feels conflicted about it, sometimes, because it feels too easy. She knows he’s been abused, and the marks of it are there, not readily visible like the scars on her back, but lurking in the touch of anxiety that his face betrays when he does something nice for her, the doubt in his eyes when she praises him. It’s as though he’s always expecting rejection, as though he’s absorbed the idea that he _deserves_ it. That thought makes her want to murder each and every person who’s been dismissive of his feelings, possibly present him with their petrified heads as a gift. His ex, she thinks, would make a very good ornamental fountain. 

Actually executing that plan would definitely make Jace feel guilty, though, so Vraska leaves that fantasy for quiet moments when Jace isn’t around to hear her thoughts and focuses instead on showing him that he isn’t in danger of losing her affection. She offers compliments freely, never insincere (you don’t lie to a telepath, even one you trust not to snoop, about your opinions of them) but never holding back. She tries to return the little favors he does for her, to match his remarkable talent for giving exactly the right gifts. She makes sure he knows how much she appreciates everything he does for her.

At first, she doesn’t touch him often, but after she catches him looking at her longingly one time too many and feels a surge of tenderness because he’s _so considerate_ , she pushes herself to try harder, and he’s so obviously delighted that it’s worth the spike of fear. It gets easier over time, and while she’ll probably always have times when the memories are too close, she finds that there are days – weeks, even! – when touching him feels as easy and pleasant as smiling at him. At those times, she discovers that his hair really is as soft as she imagined it would be, and she delights in running her claws lightly across his scalp and making him shiver. Once, when they hug, she’s struck by the realization that he has learned how to place his hands so that he won’t touch her heavily-scarred upper back, and the surge of gratitude she feels at that makes her twine her hair around his head and pull him closer for a searing kiss. She’s never been with anyone who was so aware of her needs before, and she feels overwhelmed with affection for him. 

Sex is a more daunting prospect than ordinary touch. Vraska wants it, badly. She wants _Jace_. She hasn’t had a lover in a long time, not since before prison, and she hasn’t ever had one she felt as deep a connection to. She has dealt with far too many prospective partners who were too afraid of being with a gorgon, or worse, who were more attracted to her “monstrous” traits than to her as a person. Of the few lovers she has had, none have been as thoughtful or as caring as she knows Jace will be.

She entertains vivid fantasies of all the things they might do together. Part of her desperately wants to find out how the attentiveness he shows her in every other aspect of their relationship will manifest if she allows him to service her, while another is equally curious about how he’ll react if she insists on showing him just how much she values him. She would love to just take him to bed and dedicate herself to learning his body (and oh, she _likes_ that body) but she knows it’s not that simple, not for them. There are too many ways it might go wrong. She settles for thinking about what she _wants_ to do, trying to imagine how to avoid the likely pitfalls, and feeling at once glad and sorry that he isn’t in the habit of reading her mind these days. This is definitely something they should discuss carefully. 

The discussion ends up not happening until after the first catastrophic attempt, which leads to Jace crying and apologizing for crying and ultimately falling into an exhausted sleep in Vraska’s arms, leaving her to lie awake and contemplate the ornamental fountain idea again because _he shouldn’t have felt like he needed to apologize for that_ , and she wishes she could keep him from ever feeling that way again. When she falls asleep, her dreams are full of violence, and she awakens early in the morning. 

They talk about his fears, finally, over breakfast, and she feels hopeful that he’s finally starting to accept that she really does care for him, that he doesn’t need to keep trying to be worthy of her. Things are a lot better after that; he starts to initiate physical contact sometimes, always careful to make sure she’s comfortable with it before he actually touches her, and when he surprises her with a book she’s been wanting, he’s less bashful in accepting her thanks than he has been since Ixalan. Everything’s subtly easier now that they’ve acknowledged the barrier between them, and though he’s clearly still doubting himself, he seems to be gaining confidence. She doubles down on the praise and affection, anyway.

* * *

There’s a perfect evening when they’re sitting side by side in the coziness of Jace’s library, each engrossed in a book, and Vraska feels Jace’s gaze on her and looks up to see him looking pensive. 

“What’s on your mind, Jace?”

“This is what love feels like,” he says, his tone earnest and wondering, and then he seems to realize what he’s said and goes beet-red.

She moves to close the distance between them, cuddling him close and kissing his cheek. Her heart is singing, and she’s unbearably glad he found the courage to say that.

“Yes,” she says firmly. “It is.”

* * *

Sex remains a challenge – the next time they try, he panics again, but it’s far later and only lasts a short while. The time after that, it’s Vraska’s turn. 

“Vraska!”

She opens her eyes, her mind still full of remembered pain and fear and rage, and for a moment she doesn’t remember where she is. Then she processes the softness of the sheets underneath her, the greenish glow of lamplight, and the sound of Jace’s voice from nearby. She turns her head and sees him seated beside her, his face full of concern, eyes not meeting hers. She knows that the precaution is a wise one, but she feels a pang at the sight, because he hasn’t avoided her gaze in months. 

“Vraska,” he repeats gently. “It’s all right, you’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

“Jace,” she rasps.

He looks at her then, smiles tenderly. “Yes, Captain.” 

_Captain_. He still calls her that, sometimes, and the title, when he says it, is a caress. Now it helps to clear the darkness from her mind, bring her back to the present. She’s in her bedroom, with Jace, far from the dank prison cell she so vividly remembers and the cruelty she endured there. She returns Jace’s smile, shakily, and then notices the bloody clawmarks on his shoulders. She swears. 

“Jace, I’m so sorry!” She sits up, head spinning, and looks at the cuts. They aren’t as deep as they could be, but he’s definitely going to need a healer. She remembers, now, feeling his weight on top of her and a surge of fear; she must have struck out at him when the memories hit.

“It’s all right,” he says, soothingly, as she scrambles to find something to staunch the bleeding. “It’s not your fault. I should have known better….”

“No!” she snarls, trying to apply pressure to all of his wounds at once; he takes one of the handkerchiefs she’s holding and presses it clumsily to his left shoulder, leaving her to tend to the right. “I hurt you. You do _not_ deserve the blame for that.”

“I should have realized that you might feel trapped,” he insists. “I know how much you hate being confined. You get tense if I hug you too tightly!”

“No,” she repeats, shaking her head for emphasis. “I’m the one at fault here.”

“Vraska,” he protests. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I used to have a word for people who hurt their partners and didn’t take responsibility for it,” Vraska tells him grimly. “That word was ‘gravel.’”

“This isn’t like that,” Jace argues. “You weren’t trying to hurt me, or lashing out in a fit of temper; you weren’t aware of _me_ at all. That’s not… abuse, it’s just an accident.”

Vraska draws a shaky breath. He’s right: she didn’t know where she was, or who he was, when she clawed him. She’s not going to let him blame himself, though. “And you didn’t mean to scare me,” she points out. 

“I won’t try that again,” he says ruefully, checking to see if his shoulder has stopped bleeding. “I don’t even like being on top that much.”

She laughs a little at that, and guides him to his feet. “Let’s get those cuts cleaned.” 

They have another conversation later, after she’s bandaged his wounds and they’ve cleaned up the blood, and she doesn’t think she’ll panic again, but despite that it’s over a month before she’s willing to risk more than chaste touching again. She wonders if this is going to be their relationship forever: a firm friendship and tender romance with an undercurrent of unresolved sexual tension. Not what either of them wants, but perhaps better than continuing to try and fail and try again. 

* * *

It’s Jace who broaches the subject next, a first. “I have an idea,” he explains, tentatively. “If you’re comfortable with letting me lower my telepathic wards, it would help with, ah, communication.” 

“You’d be willing to do that?” Vraska asks, surprised.

“It’s… frightening,” he admits. “If I didn’t trust you so much, I wouldn’t consider it, but I think… it might be the best solution.”

Vraska considers the prospect. It _is_ frightening; she’s laid bare her mind for him before, let him see her thoughts and feelings and memories about him, but that was a very different sort of intimacy from what he’s proposing now. 

On the other hand… the idea of letting him see exactly what she wants to do to him, in detail, is high on the list of fantasies she’s enjoyed recently, and one she’d assumed would be out of the question. She remembers how, at their first meeting, she imagined murdering him horribly to keep him from wanting to delve into her mind, and grins. 

“Read my mind now,” she tells him, mentally lining up the thoughts she wants him to see. “If you’re still up for it afterwards… well, you’ll know what to do.”

Jace’s smile lights up his whole face. “Yes, Captain.” 


End file.
